Chapter 7
The surroundings fell deathly silent.
'…Did they just call my name?'
Simon felt his mind go completely blank.
"Student Simon foll. Are you not here?"
Simon swallowed dryly and stood up. The gazes of nearly a thousand peers were now focused solely on him.
"Who is that?"
"No clue."
"That guy is number one?"
It was his first time being in such a crowded place, and also the first time being the center of so much attention.
Simon gulped nervously and walked up to the podium, standing next to Serne.
"Phew."
As Simon let out a slow breath, the host approached and patted him on the shoulder.
"No need to be nervous. Just follow what's written here."
"Yes, understood."
Serne looked at Simon. She nodded, and Simon nodded back in response.
The two of them raised their right hands at the same time.
"I swear."
"I swear."
Then, behind them, 998 students shouted "I swear" in unison.
"We, the incoming students…"
"We, the incoming students…"
Even as Simon moved his lips, his head was spinning.
He wasn't sure if he was saying the right words, or what they even meant. He was just doing his best to follow Serne's voice word for word, making sure he didn't trip over any part.
And just like that, on the very first day of admission, Simon had caught everyone's attention.
***
"No freaking way! Whoa! You were the special admission number one?!"
As soon as Simon returned to his seat, Rowen shouted in excitement.
Simon tried to explain what had happened, but because of the tight class schedule, he had to head to the lecture hall right away.
Even though it was the entrance ceremony and the first day of school, there were no breaks. The very first class began immediately.
Simon was assigned to Class A. In the first semester of first year, there were no major-specific classes, and a total of 14 classes operated.
Initially, over 60 students attended classes together, but later, the number often got halved, and class mergers were a common occurrence.
When Simon entered Class A, there wasn't a single familiar face. Loraine wasn't there, nor was Rowen. The only one who greeted him was Cindy Vivace, whom he had met at the bookstore, waving and calling out, "Hey! Special number one!"
Still, because it was a new class and everyone felt a bit awkward, Simon could blend in without standing out too much.
'The first class is Katarology.'
Simon picked a seat near the back, took out his textbook, and looked up, only to see some students quickly turning their heads away after looking at him.
Simon let out a wry smile and pretended not to notice.
Clack!
Finally, the classroom door opened and the professor walked in. Cheers erupted from students who recognized him.
"Bahil Amagar!"
"No way, seriously?"
When people think of the word "Necromancer", some imagine shady figures lurking in the shadows, dealing with corpses in gloomy, creepy atmospheres.
But that's all old news now.
Modern necromancers, having entered the mainstream, were smart, practical, stylish, and trendy. In fact, the image of being uptight and conservative now belonged more to priests.
And one of the iconic figures representing this new generation of necromancers was 'Bahil'.
Bahil, dressed head to toe in a pure white suit, had the proportions of a runway model.
Not only was he extremely handsome, but he was also a star-level young necromancer in his late twenties, a core member of Keyzen's elite force, the 'Crows'.
To the students of Keyzen, he was an object of absolute admiration.
Bahil smiled gently at the students' cheers and waved his hand. Squeals could be heard from several female students.
"Nice to meet you, freshmen. I'm Bahil Amagar, and I'll be teaching first-year Katarology this year."
Another wave of cheers erupted. Bahil raised both hands and expertly calmed the students down before setting his felt fedora on the lectern.
"Well then, let's take attendance, shall we? Since this is the first time for everyone, let's each introduce ourselves briefly when your name is called."
Bahil opened the attendance book.
"Jaime Victoria."
"Yes! Professor, it's truly an honor! I've always wanted to—!"
Bahil raised a hand and playfully cut her off with a wink.
"You're introducing yourself to your classmates here, not to me. One more time."
Scattered chuckles echoed throughout the room. Jaime Victoria blushed and introduced herself politely, saying she looked forward to the semester.
After Jaime's smooth start, the rest followed with calm and typical introductions.
Simon, knowing it wouldn't help to stand out any more than he already had, kept his own intro brief and tidy.
There were a few students who tried to impress for group projects, and others who gave off a "better recognize me" vibe in their intros.
"There are a lot of unique personalities here. That's good."
Bahil set down the attendance book, rolled up his sleeves, and walked toward the chalkboard.
"Let's begin the lecture."
Tap. Tap tap.
With chalk in hand, he wrote the large word "Katarology" across the board. He pressed down so hard while writing the final character that the chalk snapped and flew off.
Without hesitation, Bahil picked up a fresh piece of chalk.
"Let's start with a fundamental question. Why do we need to study Katarology?"
From the very first line, Bahil had a captivating presence. Every student craned their neck, focusing intently, not wanting to miss a single word.
"Can anyone define what a curse is?"
A bespectacled girl sitting right in front of Simon raised her hand high.
"Jaime Victoria! A curse is black magic that weakens the opponent while preserving your own power!"
"Excellent, Jaime."
At Bahil's praise, the girl's face flushed red.
"But for some of you, that explanation might not quite hit home. Okay, let's imagine this: two knights of equal skill face off."
Bahil held the chalk like a sword.
"They clash swords in a fierce battle. Both wear down each other's stamina, waiting for the other to slip or reveal a weakness."
He wrote "Exhaust" on the board.
"After twenty or so exchanges, neither falls. Then one knight glares and screams at the other with murderous intent. The other flinches unconsciously, a grimace on their face."
He wrote "Pressure" on the board.
"Finally, the blade slices across the opponent's shoulder. Blood sprays, and their movements begin to falter. Momentum builds!"
He wrote "Bleeding" on the board.
As the duel progressed, more and more words filled the board.
Each one represented a type of necromancer curse magic.
Students held their breath in tension, and Bahil's voice reached a climax.
"And finally! The knight severs the opponent's head!"
Bahil lowered his chalk-wielding arm, and the classroom fell into absolute silence.
He silently looked around at the students, then grinned and wrote one last spell on the board, Doom.
Gasps of admiration erupted from the class.
"Now do you see? Even the most primal, barbaric, seemingly straightforward form of combat—clashing weapons—is ultimately just a series of steps to weaken the opponent and climb toward victory."
Bahil picked up a new piece of chalk.
"Now then, let's take a look at how modern necromancers fight."
He began drawing a stick figure on the board, scribbling as if doodling.
"How does a necromancer defeat this opponent?"
Bahil drew circles around all the curse spell terms he had written so far, grouped them together, and then dragged them across the board until they touched the drawn figure.
"Victory."
"Ah…!"
"Among various dark magics, curses are light, simple in structure, and allow for rapid deployment. With just a little effort, they're efficient enough to completely destabilize the opponent."
Bahil winked at a male student sitting in the front row. Then, with a sweep of his arm, he unleashed an exhaustion curse at sub-second speed.
"Gah!"
The male student collapsed onto his desk, unable to move, only his eyes darting around in panic.
Bahil strolled over to him leisurely.
"This,"
He then pulled a mana blade from the student's bag and mimed slashing at his neck.
"is how modern necromancers fight."
Ooooooh—!
The students, excited, jumped to their feet and erupted in cheers.
Bahil smiled gently and bowed in response, then released the curse on the student.
"I don't know which major you'll end up choosing, but I dare say over 80 percent of freshmen will be taking my class again in the second semester. Katarology is highly compatible. Use your specialties, and in every opening, steadily implant curses into your opponent. That's the most efficient way to secure victory."
He walked back to the podium with a steady pace.
"Now then, let's talk about something you'll find interesting."
He wrote new words beneath the previously written 'Katarology' on the board.
"Personally, I believe Katarology is the core of modern necromancy. The reason is,"
He wrote 'Priest' on the board.
"because it's the most effective method to deal with our primary enemies."
From the very first class, he broached a sensitive topic. A competitive glint lit up in the students' eyes.
"Let me ask you this. If necromancers have 'curses', then priests have 'blessings'. It's the difference between weakening and strengthening magic. So then,"
Bahil smiled softly.
"can anyone explain what makes curses superior to blessings?"
The room went quiet.
As students glanced at each other, someone raised a hand. It was Jaime Victoria, who had been the first name called during attendance.
Bahil nodded with a smile.
"Jaime Victoria. Curses are superior to blessings in casting speed! Against the same target, you can stack weakening effects faster!"
"An interesting answer."
Bahil folded his arms.
"But incorrect. If we only consider casting speed, blessings are actually slightly faster than curses, since curses must pierce through the opponent's 'resistance'. That's the scholarly consensus."
Jaime bit her lip regretfully and sat down.
"Anyone else?"
At that moment, someone confidently raised their hand.
A tall, well-built male student with strong features and thick eyebrows.
"Hector Moore."
"Let's hear it."
"Hardly anyone trains themselves while weakened."
It sounded like a riddle, but a deep smile curled on Bahil's lips.
"Student, what was your name again?"
"Hector Moore."
"I'll remember it."
Oooooh—
Voices of admiration echoed from those around.
There were nearly a thousand new students. Getting the professor to remember your name gave you a much better chance at survival, it was a major advantage.
"Hector is right. You can't train to resist weakening spells."
He looked over the students.
"People always train assuming they're in peak condition. The measure of skill is how well you perform when everything is within your control."
The students nodded in agreement.
"Humans are more delicate than they seem. Even the slightest disruption can break them. You don't have to chop off the archer's arm to stop him from aiming at you. If he has conjunctivitis and his vision blurs, or he gets motion sickness, or he misjudges distance, or is distracted by something else, any of those might make him miss a shot he'd normally land."
Bahil's lips curled upward.
"Necromancers have many tools to mess with an enemy's condition. But think about it. When you're suffering from intense fatigue or gut-wrenching abdominal pain, who actually trains to prepare for curses in that state? Most people just take a day off."
The class chuckled quietly.
"So remember this. Rather than focusing on strengthening yourself, think about how to make the opponent weaker."
The students nodded, quills moving across notebooks. It sounded like something that would definitely be on the exam.
"Now, let's move on to actually learning curse magic."
Simon, who had been quietly taking notes, suddenly looked up in surprise.
'What? We're learning dark magic in the first class?'